


His Sun

by CeliaBowenn



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst and Romance, Apprentice (Moonless Nights), Asra Just Wants To Be Loved, F/M, Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Hopeless Devotion, Masquerade, One Shot, Poor Asra, Possibly Unrequited Love, Pre-Canon, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Pre-Red Plague Apprentice, Romance, song-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeliaBowenn/pseuds/CeliaBowenn
Summary: To say that Asra Alnazar loved her was to say the moon followed the sun across the sky. Would he ever tell her?A pre-Red Plague song-fic inspired by and based on Dodie Clark's "She" (https://youtu.be/gEdZFhCEjWI).
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Kudos: 18





	His Sun

_Am I allowed to look at her like that?_

To say that Asra Alnazar loved her was to say the moon followed the sun. He could feel the smile on his lips as she laughed, the bell-like noise ringing across the shop. He wished he could bottle the sound, to suspend this moment in an infinite loop. Her nose crinkled, emerald eyes bright with amusement. The right corner of her lips was slightly raised when she laughed, a light spatter of freckles sprinkled across her cheekbones. 

_Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at?_

“Asra,” He never heard anything so lovely as his name on her lips, especially like this. “What?” He played innocent, unable to resist grinning at the woman beside him. She shook her head in response, strands of hair falling across her forehead. She’d returned with a new hairstyle, abruptly chopping off the waist-length hair for something better suited to the Vesuvian heat. Now, the violet waves only reached her chin, curling around the smooth skin. His fingers ached to brush it away from her face, wondering if it was as soft as it appeared. 

_And she smells like lemongrass and sleep_

“You know what.” Cassandra Knight sat less than a foot away, her bare shoulder close enough to touch his. She leaned closer, sweet breath sweeping across him, “I can’t believe you scared off a customer like that.” Blissfully unaware of the goosebumps she inspired, Asra focused on the playful light in those brilliant eyes. Green as the plants that bloomed around them, he swore he could lose himself in their warmth. 

_She tastes like apple juice and peach_

“We have plenty more,” Asra replied, subtly moving his hand closer to hers. They sat on the downstairs couch, legs propped up on the closest table. Sunlight from the nearby window cast a halo around her figure, refracting off the pale crystals in each ear. “She tried slipping you a love potion.” Raising an eyebrow at her, he added, “From your own shop.” Painted nails ran through her hair, an exasperated smile lingering on her lips. 

_Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture_

“Our shop.” Cass corrected, tilting her head back to shoot him a pointed look. _Ours._ The single word seemed to brighten the entire room, lifting an invisible weight off of his chest. As much as he wanted to - and Asra practically ached with the desire - he still couldn’t bring himself to claim any of the hard work she’d so diligently put into the place. Her aunt had been absent-minded at best, dropping the dilapidated building into the hands of her eldest niece without so much as an offer to help. It was here that he met her. It was here that he fell in love. 

_And she means everything to me, oh_

“Besides, Asra, I doubt that was her intention.” Less than two years had passed since her invitation to live and work at the Knight’s Corner. Asra still couldn’t believe his luck. Making potions and telling fortunes - something he was already familiar with - was a small cost in order to remain at her side. She glanced up at him, petal-pink lips curled upwards. With a smile like that, he would follow her anywhere. 

_I'd never tell_

“Cass,” Her name rolled off his tongue like rosewater, smooth and sweet, “She gave _you_ the spiked wine.” Any anger from the aforementioned event had long since dissipated, eased by the crinkle in her smile and brush of her tanned fingers against his. He found it amusing that he ever tried to deny his feelings for her. With a single look, the stunning magician could ask for anything. She had yet to truly realize the extent of her powers, though she would occasionally stare at him funny, as if she could see right through him. 

_No, I'd never say a word_

Before Cass could respond, vibrant music crept through the open window. Her head turned towards the source, another smile blooming across her lips. She leapt from the couch, gracefully twirling to face him. “The carriage!” Grabbing his hands, she pulled him to his feet, eyes lit with anticipation. Asra found himself laughing, easily stepping over the table as soft hands guided him towards the door. 

_And oh, it aches_

“It’s already time.” They stepped into the empty street, the cobblestone beneath their feet warmed by the afternoon light. “We can’t break tradition.” She agreed, nimble fingers curling between his. Asra returned the smile, forcing down another wave of butterflies. As she turned her attention to the road, he took the opportunity to study their interlocked hands. Last time, her nails were a chipped blue. Now, they matched, black-tipped hands, interlocked.

_But it feels oddly good to hurt_

“They’ll be here any minute.” He didn’t need to see the Prakran carriage turn the corner or hear the increasingly loud music pour into the street. He only needed this, needed her. Her arm brushed against him, small hand in his. The familiar scent mingled with the fresh air and faint hint of spices. For someone who spent so much time in her own shop, she always smelled like berries and freshly baked bread. 

_And she smells like lemongrass and sleep_

“There!” She pointed with a victorious grin. Her grip loosened, but he refused to let her slip away. Mercifully, the enthused magician was too distracted to take notice. In truth, Asra doubted she even realized that their hands were still intertwined. She was often quite affectionate with those she trusted, bestowing gentle hugs and arm touches without a second thought. She’d nearly broken him the first time she had kissed him on the cheek. 

_She tastes like apple juice and peach_

“She takes this route every year.” Asra watched her as the carriage passed, briefly pulling his gaze away to nod in the coachman’s direction. The familiar man nodded towards them, any verbal greeting drowned out by noise. “And every year we come to watch it pass.” She sighed happily, leaning into his side. For all her protests, the top of her head only reached his chin. He silently admitted there was an intrinsic satisfaction from the height difference, from being able to tuck her perfectly in his arms. Versuvia was never cold, but on rainy days, they would sometimes end up curled in bed together, retelling old stories and fond memories. 

_Oh, you would find her in a Polaroid picture_

“What should we wear for the Masquerade tonight?” Those eyes pinned him in place, wide and curious. Smiling, Asra squeezed her hand. “As if you haven’t already planned our costumes months in advance.” He was gifted with another laugh from the woman beside him. He smiled automatically at the sound, knowing the warmth in his chest wasn’t from the pleasant weather. 

_And she means everything to me_

“You know me too well.” It wasn’t the first time she admitted this, but the words brought him inexplicable pleasure each time, a sense of pride and something else entirely. Since their first encounter outside that very shop - he had initially questioned if the interaction had been nothing but a wonderful dream - they had slowly opened up to one another, unfolding like spring flowers. Asra leaned down to brush his lips against the top of her forehead, unable to resist her. 

_And I'll be okay admiring from afar_

“We should probably start getting ready, then.” She looked to where the carriage had disappeared, the sound of excited conversation and music in the distance. “Mamá said they’d meet us outside the Palace.” Asra couldn’t tell if it was the sun above their heads, or the woman before him, that was glowing. He knew she preferred the heat of Versuvia over her family’s home in Milova, and always joked that she would one day stay, permanently. The last thing he had expected was for her to agree, especially with that sly look on her face.

_'Cause even when she's next to me_

“Oh, look!” Her hand curled around his, the other lingering on his arm. He forced himself to follow her bright eyes towards the blue sky, where fireworks had already begun to ignite. Sparks of red, orange, and every color imaginable filled the space above their heads, muted explosions masking the crowd’s chatter. She let out a gasp at a particularly intricate explosion, velvet-soft fingers flexing against his bare skin. The right side of her lips tugged upwards, newly cut bangs sweeping against the long amethyst eyelashes. 

_We could not be more far apart_

“I love you.” They escaped before he could stop himself, each word sugary-sweet against his lips. The emerald-eyed magician didn’t hear him, attention focused on the spectacle unfolding around them. “I’ll never get tired of this view.” She murmured, barely audible over the noise, “The fireworks, the people dancing…” Her eyes met his, piercing and achingly beautiful in their depth. Asra bit his lip to keep the words from slipping free again.

_And she tastes like birthday cake and storytime and fall_

“Asra, are you alright?” Her bottom lip jutted out, a small knot forming between delicate brows. Asra sometimes forgot that she could read him just as well, though she remained ignorant about the depth of his feelings. How could she, when he constantly tried to hide the aching desire? While even Inas and Cass’s family had encouraged him to tell her, how could he be so selfish? Instead, Asra kept as close to the truth as he could, “I’m fine, just happy to be here with you.” Her responding smile was worth the pain in his chest. 

_But to her, I taste of nothing at all_

To say that Asra Alnazar loved her was to say the moon followed the sun. Her warmth and light drew him to her inexorably, impossibly so. In her absence, gravity would claw at his chest, a heavy burden in the darkness. Without her, the very colors of the world seemed to wither. Thus, Asra knew he would forever chase after that light, that smile. Through the star-studded sky, he would endure the pain, for her. Anything, for her. His own, personal sun. 


End file.
